My Fault
by Laqueta Okami
Summary: Holmes is in the hospital, he has been there for 3 days. I would be used to this, except that this time is different than the rest, because it is my fault... Set in Watson's POV. Placed after the movie. Watson is engaged but not married quite yet.
1. The Hospital

Disclaimer: Original story and characters are not mine, other than Mr. Ashton and Ms. Brindle.  
Warning: Will be slash. Don't like, don't read.  
Reviews are welcome, even if they are flames, provided it is within reason.  
Set in Watson's POV.

Huge thank you goes to Strawberry-Green-Girl for her help with this. :3

And now, for your reading pleasure:

* * *

My Fault

I slowly approach the bed, anxiety building. I'd seen him hurt before, heck; I'd usually been the one to treat him. Those times were different though. Those times he had led us into the danger, with me stupidly following. This time was different because this time I had been the one leading, and he had simple followed out of possibly loyalty, concern, or worry.

I reach the bedside and look at the figure lying there. The thing that strikes me as the strangest is how quiet he is. While awake he is always talking about one thing or the other. He does not look peaceful, tossing and turning, but he does not moan or mumble. He seems to be battling demons in his sleep. I watch, transfixed for a moment, as he turns one, then the other. Though he is only moving in mere centimeters, it is as though he were fighting off a large group of attackers. Every twitch causes the white hospital sheets to bunch, part of them having already been pushed off the small bed. I chuckle as I bend down to drag them back onto his body. He shifts even more restlessly as I do, so I gently lay my hand on his forehead. His moving stops and he seems to fall into a deeper sleep, though he still has a troubled look on his face. I seat myself in a chair beside the bed, prepared for a long wait.

As I watch my best friend doze in the hospital bed I let myself become absorbed in my surroundings. Shortly the smell of alcohol, both medicinal and cleaning faced, along with the sound of nurses bustling about as I am pulled into the memory of why and how we ended up here.

"No."

"Yes. You know I need you with me."

"Holmes, I said no."

"Watson, we both know that no matter how much you argue, the answer is going to be yes."

I glare at the man I call my friend, before sighing.

"Alright, fine. I can only help for an hour though; you know I have to meet Mary to begin making arrangements."

"Yes, yes. Come on then, let's go."

Holmes grabs his hat and sunglasses before quickly walking out the door. I toll my eyes at his childish behavior before following him, grabbing my hat and cane on the way out. I quickly follow Holmes into the cab, and we ride in silence to the mortuary, both lost in our own thoughts.

Lestrade had come to Holmes with yet another case that had stumped the men in the police force. The reason I was so necessary was that the case involved a dead man, with no obvious cause of death.

As we enter the mortuary Lestrade greets us apprehensively before asking us to follow him, his eyes begging me to not let Holmes wander. I glance over at Holmes, only to realize he is no longer behind me. I quickly glance about and see him going to investigate a different body than the one we are here to see.

"Come on then Holmes, you dragged me down here so you should at least help out." I calmly state.

Lestrade shoots me a grateful look as Holmes huffs and stops his prior investigation of the body he was at to move over to the one we are here to see.

"This is your area of expertise doctor. I was simply trying to stay out of y our way. I do, in fact, have questions for you Lestrade."

"Dr. Watson, if you will be alright on your own I shall leave you to the corpse while I answer any questions Holmes has." Inspector Lestrade says this, standing a wary distance from the corpse.

"That should be fine Inspector. Please do not wander to far Holmes; I shall undoubtedly require your deductive powers."

"Very well. I do believe you should begin; you haven't more than half an hour before you need to consult with Mary, remember." As he says this a slightly bitter tone enters his voice, and he develops a twitch in his brow as though suppressing a frown. I don't believe Lestrade noticed, but I picked up on it immediately due to both the fact that I have spent many years with him, being told to watch for small details such as those, and the fact that this happened virtually every time he spoke of Mary. I made a mental note to speak to him about this later as I nod curtly to him and turn to begin examining the body. As I go about my examination listen to holes and Lestrade, mentally filing away the information so as to make notes on it later.

"What do you know about the corpse? Has he a name; a place of residence; any potential enemies? I need facts Lestrade! I'm sure you can provide me with at least the basic knowledge of this case, can you not?"

"Yes sir, though the knowledge is limited. He was found lying in one of the fields on the outskirts of the city, he had not identification on him, and nobody has reported a missing person since the approximate time of death. We were called by the farmer who owns the fields; it is on of his most popular crops, so he checks it every two days. Due to the time of death the mortuary physician gave us it would suggest that the body was dumped on a day the farmer checks the field, but it was not reported until two days after that."

"So what you are telling me is that you and the yard have absolutely no evidence."

"I… That is to say… The farmer must have known about the corpse sooner than he actually reported it…"

"Ah, so you are saying that you suspect the farmer is involved? Answer me this Lestrade, if he was involved, why inform the police?"

"He would do it so as to not be suspected, of course." I insert. "Now then, if you are quite finished torturing the inspector, I could use your assistance."

Holmes huffs indignantly before walking over to the table. "I do not torture, I merely challenge. If he is not up for a challenge he should not be an inspector. You have to admit, the do have little to no valuable evidence."

"Yes, well that is the reason they have called you then, is it not? Tell me, what do you make of this fabric?"

"It is silk, quite high quality at that. This fellow must have lived in one of the manors in center square."

Lestrade draws slightly closer to the corpse, intrigued. "How can you be certain?"

"Note the smooth quality of his hands? The well manicured nails? This gentleman has not done hard labor for many, many years, if ever. Also, the only people with a large enough budget to afford this particular fabric live around the square."

Lestrade is clearly baffled, and Sherlock continues, examining the body as he goes.

"I can also tell that he has been married, but has since divorced, sometime in the past two or three years."

Lestrade interrupts again with "How do you know he is divorced? Perhaps his wife simply died."

I can understand his question, as people who do divorce become something of a scandal so it is quite uncommon. I can see Sherlock becoming disgruntled with the inspector though, as he does not enjoy being interrupted while explaining his deductions.

"That is a very good question, Inspector. The tan line around his finger can tell us. It is clear a ring sat there, but as it is not extremely pale, and has begun to tan, one can tell that the ring was removed quite sometime ago, roughly two years, as my colleague mentioned. If a husband loses their wife they continue to wear the ring as a symbol of respect and mourning, while a divorced man will rid himself of the ring as quickly as possible, so as to not have the physical reminder of it. From here it is a simple matter of memory. It is a simple matter to think if anyone from high society has died in the past twenty years. It is not difficult to remember that only a couple of deaths have happened, due to the extreme publicity they receive. Both of these deaths, however, were of ladies many years this gentleman's senior. From there we try to remember any divorces that have taken place in the last few years. If you recall, there have only been two."

"I recall only one case, as we were required to intervene. It was the case of Hempton v. Rathburn. Mr. Hempton was found guilty of beating his wife, and the courts allowed Ms. Rathburn to file for divorce if she so wished, even though it went against the norm. He was convicted of the beatings, and thus sent to jail, the divorce being finalized shortly after his sentence. What was the other?"

"The other, my dear inspector, was one that I simply recall due to being hired by the husband. Mr. Ashton hired me to explain the strange comings and going of his wife. Upon meeting his wife I informed him that she was having an affair. He was reluctant to believe me, and asked me to provide proof. I did so, and he immediately divorced her. You do not mean to tell me Watson, that this is our dear Mr. Ashton. I never forget a face."

"Nor do I Holmes. The simple answer though, is that this man has had severe facial surgery, probably out of fear. If either of you remember, the divorce was in the papers for a week straight, and amongst the mundane legal chatter, there were many death threats issued from Ms. Brindle, Mr. Ashton's former wife. The police force was prepared to take him into protective custody, when she suddenly disappeared. No one has seen hide or hair of her since."

Holmes slowly applauds. "Brilliant, Watson! You have effectively brought to light the identity of our corpse, and provided both a suspect and a motive. There is one thing you have failed to tell us my friend, the manner in which our poor Mr. Aston perished. I am sure your prolonged silence is to keep us in suspense judging by the gleam in your eye, so do continue Dr. Watson."

I chuckled good humouredly as Holmes' assessment of the gleam in my eye. I will let him believe it is due to my knowledge of what caused Mr. Ashton's death. He needs not know it is pleasure at his compliment, as they are few and far between.

"Indeed I do. Mr. Ashton was poisoned. It was a slow acting poison, however, which is what caused it to escape earlier detection. Observe the fine layer of foam now present in his mouth?" As I ask this I gently open his mouth with a tool from my kit.

"Due to the lack of marks anywhere on his body it would be an educated guess to say that he ingested it. It had probably been mixed with something he ate or drank. I will need to inspect the residence to determine what it was and what it was mixed with."

"Well there is no time to waste then, is there? Thank you for your assistant Lestrade, we shall keep you posted."

With that said Sherlock pivots on his heel and walks out the door, simply expecting me to follow.

"I don't know what we're going to do without you Watson, he will be completely unbearable. Thank you for agreeing to help him with a few more cases."

"You're welcome. I'm sure he will be fine, he is just moping about me getting married right now."

I give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before quickly following Holmes out the door.

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A/N: I already have half of chapter two written, so it should be up within the next couple of days. :3 Provided you want more of course. ;) And just for the heck of it, a lovely quote from Sherlock Holmes:  
"No women wants to marry a doctor who can't tell if a man is dead or not!"

~Laqueta


	2. Seeing Mary

Disclaimer: Original story and characters are not mine, other than Mr. Ashton and Ms. Brindle.  
Warning: Will be slash. Don't like, don't read.  
Reviews are welcome, even if they are flames, provided it is within reason.  
Set in Watson's POV.

A/N: Again, huge thank you goes to Strawberry-Green-Girl for her support and help with this. :3  
Sorry for the wait, work has been insane, I hope the chapter makes up for the wait...

And now, for your reading pleasure, chapter 2:

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Once I catch up with Holmes we climb into the cab he had waiting.

"You really should be more polite to Lestrade. He does his job to the best of his abilities, not everyone has a mind like yours, Sherlock."

He seems to take no notice of the fact that I used his Christian name, responding sarcastically.

"I should hope not, I would no longer have a job if they did. Relax Watson; I only challenge Lestrade so that his own skills increase. I honestly think they have begun slacking on their job, since they always have us to fall back on." Holmes sighs and seems to sink in on himself a bit. "You'll be married soon enough and then I'll have to deal with the stupidity that is Scotland Yard all on my own. I need to keep them on their toes or they will walk all over me."

"Holmes, you've been treating Lestrade like this for years. My marriage has nothing to do with it. Now then, we are here. I'm not going to say anything more about your treatment of Lestrade once I step out of the cab, but just know it would mean something to mean if you let up a bit."

This said I climb out of the cab and walk up to Mr. Ashton's house, rapping swiftly on the door. As I wait for a maid or housekeeper to open the door Holmes pays the cab driver.

"Come Watson. It will be inconspicuous if we break in through the back door." He says as he walks around the house.

I quickly follow him, casting a look around as I do. A sudden flash of blonde catches my eye as I round the back of the house. I quickly look towards it, and see a lady hurrying down the alley. Shocked, I move to follow her. Before I get very far my arm is grabbed. I whip my head around to see that it is Holmes that has grabbed me.

"Where are you running off to Watson?"

"I think I saw Mary! I will join you in the house shortly Holmes, I promise."

He releases my arm and I run after her. As I get further and further from the house I hear Holmes voice fading.

"I do not believe that is her! Watson? ...Watson!!"

I realize I have lost her and begin slowing down, searching for her quickly. As I approach a corner, I hear voices so I quietly press myself to the wall and listen.

"Good job, you left enough evidence behind for Sherlock Holmes to find us!" A distinctly angry male voice proclaims.

"I did not! I just got rid of the rest of the evidence. See? This is the pot and cup we used each day, so relax. The maid won't say anything, she never liked that man any more than I did, and the arsenic we used was given to her on a day-to-day basis so there is no container at Ashton's house. Stop worrying, I'm not as stupid as your lackeys. Have you gotten on their case for just dumping the body on a farm rather in the river like we said?"

As the voice, clearly female, is speaking I peer around the corner. The voice belongs to the lady I had thought was Mary. As I am closer to her now I see that her hair and posture are similar to Mary's. At a wider glance I see that she is surrounded by a group of burly men, and seems to be conversing with the leader, who appears to be more like a gentleman than the rest of the group.

I take a step back, planning to get Holmes quickly and then return to apprehend her. Only, I back into what feels like a wall. Before I can turn around I am shoved forward, right into the middle of the group. I quickly put out my hands to cushion my impact with the ground, as my cane goes flying.

"He was spyin' on us."

"Well, well, if it isn't the lapdog of Sherlock Holmes. Tell me doctor, what are you doing so far from home?"

The apparent leader jests, slowly circling me.

I don't respond as I carefully climb to my feet, my military wound aching.

"What's the matter Watson, not feeling chatty tonight?" He stops, standing in front of me, gun in hand.

"Maybe he can't talk without his master's permission?" a voice from somewhere in the group shouts, 'causing them to all burst in loud gales of laughter.

As I discreetly glance around I realize that they all have at least one gun, though most have two. I also notice that someone has picked up my cane, though I can't see who.

"So, you were the one to kill your husband Miss Brindle. Would you mind my asking a few questions?"

I'm caught off guard as the leader backhands me, with his gun still in hand.

"She has no reason to answer your questions."

"Relax Jason. He is here now, it's not like he can go running to Scotland Yard or his precious Holmes. Besides, what will it hurt to humor him? We can just kill him afterwards."

The leader, Jason, chuckled darkly and nods.

"Alright, darling. Go ahead doctor, ask your questions, if only to pro-long your death."

I ignore his taunts, knowing that he is simply trying to get my riled up. Though not as spectacular at word play as Holmes, I have watched him for many years now and have developed a few skills of my own.

"Miss Brindle, while it is not a shock to find out that you are the one responsible for your husband's death, I am medically intrigued. What poison did you use? How did you administer it?"

"It was simple really. If you know where to get poison, such as arsenic, the only difficulty is getting it into his food or drink. Arsenic can be found with the right connections to London's black market, which I happen to have with Jason here. As for how I got it to him, the maid was more than willing to help. She was a maid when I still lived there, and I was the one that convinced Trevor, sorry, I mean Mr. Ashton to take her on as a maid. He did a good job hiding his identity for quite a while, but he did eventually move back to a house near our old one, and he kept Janette on as a maid. She owed me, so it wasn't very hard work to talk her into slipping the poison into his drink every day, usually more than once a day."

As she talks Miss Brindle becomes more, and more smug, I watch this, and cast glances about to see if the men have developed the same smugness, and have hopefully let their guard down. To my disappointment they have only become more excited at the prospect of killing someone and are paying even closer attention to me than before.

"Ah, I see." I respond smoothly, racking my brain for ways to keep her talking. "Are you not worried about being caught? How do you know the maid won't talk and what of the evidence in the house?"

"Come now, Dr. Watson, you an intelligent man. A simple matter of blackmail insures that Jane will not say anything. I'm sure you overheard the fact that I removed the cup and pot for Ashton's tea from the house just minutes ago. Though I applaud your efforts to keep me talking, thus pro-longing your death, as Jason so eloquently put it, I do have an appointment to keep. He is all yours boys; please clean up the mess properly this time."

This said she turn on her heel, and disappears down the alley, heading back in the direction we had come from.

My attention is abruptly pulled from her as the butt of a gun is slammed into my head. I fall to the ground for the second time that day, not being able to brace myself this time. Shortly the men are all over men, kicking, punching, and hitting me with their guns. Unable to get to my feet or fight back I simply do my best to hold onto consciousness and protect vital organs.

The beating goes on for what seems like hours, though in reality was closer to 20 minutes, before Jason makes them all back off.

"We all have other things we should be doing, so lucky you, you get spared more torture. While a quick death is not deserved by the man who put so many of our brothers behind bars, it is all we have time for."

With that said the men all raise their guns slightly, and point them at me. The last thought I have before I hear the gunshot is 'I broke my promise to Sherlock; I never did join him in the house.

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A/N: So, here are my responses to the reviews from chapter one. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Please review this chapter too, if you can. :3

methegirl: I'm glad it was 'good so far'. Sorry for not updating sooner, I promise the next part of the story will come soon.  
saph-kira33: I hope this chapter was as good as the first. :3  
Holly Short of the Lep recon: Hahaha Thank you, thank you. It really wouldn't have been believable without Watson being upset over Holmes. I hope this chapter meets your approval for believability! :D  
Nova-chan: Sadly, I didn't proof read it. Well, I did but it was late and I was tired. I hope there are less in this chapter as I did the same thing again.... I apologize if there are quite a few...  
RoadkillHermes: Wow, thank you! Like, tons! I'm really sorry the update took so long, I'm really glad you liked it so much though!! :D  
Hittocere: I have continued! I promise the next section of the story will explain why dear Sherlock is in the hospital!!  
BumblyBee3: It was soon! Though not as soon as I'm sure everyone would have liked... But it's out now!! :D  
Ennairam Atrum Austerus: I appreciate your eloquent-ness, so much so that I used the word eloquent in the story because of it. :D Also, your review made me laugh so hard! I love that quote, good job and thank you!! :3

Thank you again to all those who read, reviewed, favourited, and alerted. I promise the next section will be sooner than you think! ;)

A quotable quote from Ms. Hudson:  
"He's killed the dog... Again."

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Alright, so just to be nice I'm going to post just a bit more in this chapter, so you can stop having a mini-heart attack over the cliff-hanger. I wasn't going to post the rest of this in this chapter, but I love you all and figured I made you wait to long for this chapter so it's only fair to make up for it. ;) So here is the next section of 'My Fault':

* * *

As I hear the gunshot go off I don't feel the pain I knew was coming, instead I hear a large amount of noise happening around me, and carefully open my eyes to look.

To my surprise I see the thugs fighting with Holmes, who is trying to work his way towards me, and for some reason has anger written all over his face.

"Holmes?" I gasp weakly.

His head whips around to face me, shock flashing across his face. This move leaves him temporarily unguarded however and one of the thugs gets in a lucky punch, unintentionally causing Holmes to stumble over to where I'm laying.

"…You're alive…" I hear him whisper, before he quickly turns his attention back to the matter at hand.

He quickly disables most of the men, and the others all run in fear, not wanting to have his wrath on them. After looking around to make sure all the men are either downed or have run off he swiftly turns and is by my side before I can fully comprehend the fact that he even moved.

His hand gently reaches down and caresses my face.

"…John…"

"Hi Holmes… I'm sorry."

He shifts me into a sitting position, support my head, though he nearly drops me again when I mutter my apology.

"You're sorry? Whatever for??"

"I promised I would meet you at the house…"

Before I even fully finish my sentence he laughs, a shaky, raspy laugh.

"You inane man! That doesn't even matter now! I though you were dead…"

Realizing just how terrified he had actually been I slowly reach up and brush away a single tear that he hadn't noticed falling from his eye, before letting my hand fall back to my lap.

"I would have been, had it not been for you…"

We both sit in an awkward silence for a moment before I gather my sapped strength and rest my hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you Sherlock. You truly are my brother, I don't know what I would do without you."

As I say this he seems to jerk a bit before his face hardens slightly, and he sighs.

"The same goes for me, Watson. Let's get you out of here, Mary will be wondering what has happened to you."

I am to distracted to see the figure approach from behind Holmes before it is to late.

"How touching. To bad that this Mary will never see you again, alive that is!" Before either Sherlock or I can react Jason has fired his gun.

I cringe, waiting again for the searing pain, but do not feel it, instead I feel myself lowered back onto the ground, before I hear the crunch of bone that signifies Holmes having taken care of Jason, with a swift uppercut to the nose. As I glance around for the bullet on the ground I see blood splattered on my jacket and shirt. Quickly lifting them both I see that it is not my own. As this registers my head snaps up to where Holmes is, seeing that he is now kneeling beside me.

"Holmes…?"

"Don't worry Watson, I sent for Lestrade before coming after you, and that fellow won't be shooting anyone else any time soon. Transportation to the hospital will be here in no time…"

As he's talking he weaves a little bit, before falling from his knees to his butt, then slowly onto his back.

"You were shot! But I saw him, he was clearly aiming for me!!" I drag myself over the couple of inches to Holmes, as fast as I can. Once I reach him I shift his head and shoulders so than he is leaning against me, rather than lying on the ground.

"Yes, and his aim is extremely good. I am just faster than he anticipated."

He leans more into me as I begin to remove his jacket and shirt, looking for the wound. Finding it I us his shirt to keep pressure, trying not to cry at the feeling wrenching my gut as I see him slowly dieing.

"Why though? Why put yourself in the way of a bullet??"

"…You would do the same for Mary, would you not?"

For some reason this question infuriates me. He is always blaming Mary for one thing or another.

"Yes, but that is different Holmes! I am engaged to Mary, I love her! I would be devastated beyond relief if she died!!" I feel Holmes flinch as if hit as I speak, so I lower my voice. "While I would miss any number of my friends, the grief would not be the same if I lost her, but what does that have to do with this? With us?"

I feel Holmes sigh deeply before he slumps against me heavily.

"Think about it Watson, I know your not blind. It…" He pauses, gasping in pain before shuddering and clearly starting to lose consciousness. "It will come…" he whispers, before going eerily silent, and still.

"Holmes…? Holmes?! Holmes! Sherlock!!! No, you can't die on me! I didn't mean it, I would miss you just as much!!" I am nearly hysterical, thinking I have just lost my best friend in the entire world. Slowly, nervously, I lift my hand to his throat, determined to check his pulse, or possible lack thereof.

Gently pressing my fingers against his throat, I feel his pulse. Weak, but fairly steady. I left out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding before slumping forward slightly.

I suddenly hear the sound of sirens, and as the pounding of feet fills the alley, the pain from my beating hits me, and I moan lightly falling back onto the ground, careful to not jostle Holmes to much.

As sleep calls to me I hear Lestrade calling to me, and manage a weak noise I intended to be an "over here", but came out as more of a croak.

I hear him rush over, and try to make sense of the words he is saying.

"…Dr. Watson, sir!!"

"Please talk slower Lestrade" I whisper, fighting to keep my eyes open.

"We are going to lift you Dr. Watson, we will get you and Mr. Holmes here to the hospital in no time, do not worry! Just relax and we will make sure you are safe!"

I smile, though I fear it came out as something of a grimace, due to the flash of fear that crossed lestrade's face.

"I trust you inspector, just make sure the doctors get the bullet out of Holmes…" This is the last thing I say before I begin feeling dizzy. I see Lestrade saying something, but his words fall on deaf ears as I drift into the peaceful black that is sleep and oblivion.

* * *

A/N: Alright, now that is the actual end of the chapter. I have nothing else written so far so I don't know how soon an update will come, but I will do my best, as I have at least an idea of what I want to do. Love you all!

~Laqueta


	3. Revelations

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I just have not had the time to type it up until now. Big thanks to Evan for beta-ing this for me. Huge thank you to everyone who favourited, and is following the story. Special thanks to: lost feather, methegirl, tofu-rox, Manu4380, saph-kira33, Super Lizard, MirrorFlower and DarkWind, Hittocere, Uncanny-dreamer, Stick-Em-Up-Punk, RoadkillHermes, BumblyBee3, SugarSnaps037, BlackxValentine, Holly Short of the Lep recon, L A Adolf, Skipper96, & ZeeAwesomeSauceIsAwesome for reviewing.

* * *

**Previously**

_Chapter 1:_

I slowly approach the bed, anxiety building. I'd seen him hurt before, heck; I'd usually been the one to treat him. Those times were different though. Those times he had led us into the danger, with me stupidly following. This time was different because this time I had been the one leading, and he had simple followed out of possibly loyalty, concern, or worry.

_Chapter 2:_

Before either Sherlock or I can react Jason has fired his gun.

I cringe, waiting again for the searing pain, but do not feel it, instead I feel myself lowered back onto the ground, before I hear the crunch of bone that signifies Holmes having taken care of Jason, with a swift uppercut to the nose. As I glance around for the bullet on the ground I see blood splattered on my jacket and shirt. Quickly lifting them both I see that it is not my own. As this registers my head snaps up to where Holmes is, seeing that he is now kneeling beside me.

...

"Holmes…? Holmes? Holmes! Sherlock! No, you can't die on me! I didn't mean it, I would miss you just as much!" I am nearly hysterical, thinking I have just lost my best friend in the entire world. Slowly, nervously, I lift my hand to his throat, determined to check his pulse, or possible lack thereof.

Gently pressing my fingers against his throat, I feel his pulse. Weak, but fairly steady. I left out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding before slumping forward slightly.

...

I smile, though I fear it came out as something of a grimace, due to the flash of fear that crossed lestrade's face.

"I trust you inspector, just make sure the doctors get the bullet out of Holmes…" This is the last thing I say before I begin feeling dizzy. I see Lestrade saying something, but his words fall on deaf ears as I drift into the peaceful black that is sleep and oblivion.

* * *

**Now**

I am suddenly pulled back to the present by a hand gently shaking me.

"Mr. Watson, you must rest."

I look up and see one of the nurses standing beside me, patiently waiting for a response.

"I feel fine." I respond, feeling uncharacteristically stubborn.

"You were badly injured, you should not be moving around yet."

I stubbornly fold my arms across my chest. "Madame, I feel fine. I need to be here when he wakes up…"

My voice started out strong but wavers off as I finish, worry seeping through instead of strength or confidence.

The nurse merely shakes her head and gently but firmly pulls me out of my seat.

"The surgery went well; it will just take his body a while to recover. When it does, he will wake. We will notify you as soon as he regains consciousness. In the mean time, you really do need to rest. Your ribs have not finished healing and the pain killers will be wearing off shortly. If you are feeling up to it, visiting hours start in a few minutes. Your fiancé has been here every day waiting for you to wake up."

As she's talking she helps me walk back to my room, settling me onto the bed and making sure I'm not in pain.

My heart jumps at the mention of Mary, and I realize that this is the first time I've thought about her since I woke up.

I nod to the nurse, indicating that I would be feeling up to seeing Mary. As the nurse leaves to fetch her I gingerly recline against the propped up pillows. The nurse had been right, I could feel the pain killers wearing off and the pain from my ribs and all my other bruises begin to seep through.

A few short moments pass before I feel a crushing weight settling over my body, and I hear Mary's voice.

"It's so good to see you awake, John. I was so worried! How are you feeling?"

"It's good to see you too, Mary. I'm feeling fine, just a little sore…" I wiggle around a little as I'm speaking, trying to get Mary to loosen her tight hold on me.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry!" She quickly steps back from the bed, delicately seating herself in the chair beside the bed.

I laugh gently and pat her hand. "It's alright, the pain killers are just wearing off."

"Would you like me to call the nurse?"

"I'm okay, you just hug very tightly." I say this with a smile to show her I'm just teasing.

She laughs lightly in response.

"Well I'm glad you're healing. The doctor told me you had two bruised ribs and two cracked ribs. Also, every part of your body was bruised. He said you weren't waking because it was your body's way of dealing with the immense stress to it. John, why do you always follow that man into dangerous situations? One of these days it's going to get you killed! He doesn't care for you the way I do and yet you are always running off with him on his 'adventures'. Even when you have plans with me! You promised me when I accepted your proposal that you were done helping _Holmes_ with his ridiculous crusades. Is this the way it's going to be when we're married? You always running off to follow him, leaving me to worry until you show up in one hospital room or another?"

As Mary stops to catch her breath an awkward silence falls, both of us lost in our own thoughts. As everything she says sinks in, I recall a statement that was made previously.

"Mary… What do you feel for me? I mean, when you think of me and when you're near me, what do you feel?" I ask this as quietly as possible, afraid to break the silence.

The look she shoots me appears to be a very puzzled one, before she reaches out and grasps my hand. "I love you John, you know that."

"Would you blindly follow me into a possibly dangerous situation?"

"John, what…"

"Please Mary, just humour me."

"… Alright. I would, as it's not my place to defy my husband."

I hum lightly and nod my head in acknowledgement.

"That's true. If you had a choice, to stay safe or come with Holmes and I on one of his 'crusades', as you call them, what would you choose?"

"Well… I would like to come, but… I would probably be in the way… And you would not be able to focus on what you're doing…"

As she speaking she fidgets, and only glances into my eyes, before returning her gaze to the sheets. I had never seen Mary anything but confident, so it was slightly shocking to see this.

"Okay then. Would you take a bullet for me?"

Mary visibly hesitates before nodding.

"Thank you. Oh, and I didn't follow him, he followed me." I then explain what happened, while slowly slipping from my seated position into a more slouched one.

"Wow… Well, do you see now how dangerous it is following him around? You did not follow him this time, but they still came after you because of your closeness to Holmes. This has to be your last case. You can't handle any more beatings."

Though she probably said it with the best intentions, it still stung.

"I am quite tired Mary. I should get some rest so that my body can continue to heal properly. Could you send in a nurse on your way out?"

"Of course, dear. Get some rest. I will come visit you again tomorrow, if you are up to it."

She leans over and kisses me before turning to leave. Just before she leaves the room she half turns and looks me in the eye.

"You did promise."

Before I have time to respond however, she's gone and a nurse is checking me over. The nurse gives me a small shot of painkillers with a mild sedative to help me sleep, then leaves after making sure I'm comfortable. As the room becomes almost completely black, save for the light filtering between the curtains on the window, my mind drifts to the events of the past few weeks.

Holmes had been increasingly irritable as my wedding drew closer. Every time I mentioned Mary or anything about the wedding he'd either snap at me or ignore me completely. As I'm remembering this, the pain killers start taking effect, causing my thoughts to blur together.

Just before I fall asleep a few things dawn on me. One, Sherlock loves me. Two, my fiancé basically told me I have to choose between her and Holmes.

* * *

A/N: Hope it was good. I'm not sure when the new chapter will be out, and I may need a new beta for this story. I had a lovely one, but she has been M.I.A. for a short while now. I will try to update within the month, or sooner.


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